If I Only Had A Heart
by HeatherSuoh
Summary: "Stupid damn robot. I knew you didn't have a brain. You don't have a heart either. I almost envy you." / Totally original title, right? Give me snaps for that. Aleheather lovefest taking place in the All Stars season, if the robot hadn't exploded in episode one. -ℋ
1. Tinman

**{Chapter 1 of what will hopefully be a long story to tell. :) If you like it, please hit follow, and reviews are always cherished. -ℋ }**

[HEATHER'S POV]

"Back _off,_ Toaster!"

Something about that robot rubs you the wrong way. You cross your arms, lips curled into your signature pout. Why was the creepy walking robot put on _your_ team?

"It _is_ kind of weird the way it just… follows you around…" Gwen comments from the table. You march around the spa hotel's dining room, trying to get the robot off your trail. The faster you walk, the faster it moves, though, and it eventually descends into you running circles around the room while it chases you.

" _Get away from me!"_

Duncan pipes in as you give up to catch your breath. "Isn't that robot from back in season two? Celebrity Manhunt or something?"

" _Someone_ watched that show too much." Gwen teases.

"No, seriously! I just think it's weird, that robot was _definitely_ not mobile back then. It seems… sentient now. And it's got it's metal heart set on Heather over there."

Gwen snickers. "How sweet. It's like a bad movie!"

"It is _not_ sweet." You bicker. "It's weirding me out. What if it's going to kill me or something?"

"Shuuuuut up!" Jo complains from the table, three fourths of the way through her dinner. "Your constant whining is really challenging my five star experience here."

"Not mine!" Scott intervenes. "This is the best thing that's ever happened! Go villains!"

They continue squawking back and forth but you don't care enough to take note of what they're talking about. You slide into a chair and pick at your food, pouting.

Okay, so the robot isn't the only reason you're so high strung right now. You zone out staring at your plate, your mind off somewhere else. When you shake yourself back to reality, the others are mid conversation.

"Yeah, it's really too bad that Alejandro isn't here." Duncan says. "I thought for sure he would be. I didn't even like the guy, but, he probably would've been a great asset to the villains team."

Suddenly you feel like you've been punched in the stomach. You glance at the clock. It's only seven thirty.

"I'm gonna turn in early." You state to no one in particular, and immediately the robot behind you pulls out your chair for you. This time it scares you a little bit-That was a pretty deliberate move for a mindless robot. Nobody seems to notice but Duncan, who shoots the robot an odd look.

You step out of your chair and head down the hallway towards the bedroom. The robot follows after. "Quit it!" you call at it, shoving it back. "No way you're coming in there with me."

You move fast and manage to get into the room and shut the robot out. You smirk to yourself proudly and lock the door, wiping your hands together as if you've just done a lot of bodily work. "Well! That takes care of that!"

You get halfway to the bed when the robot starts repeatedly running itself into the door outside, over and over and over again. Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me.

 _"UUUUGGGHHH!"_

You flop down on the bed and put the pillow over your head, clamping it over your ears, but the slamming doesn't stop. You screech at it a few times, muffled through the pillow, but shockingly it has no effect.

Eventually you can't take the slamming anymore and get up, red in the face and fuming, and open the door. "WHAT DO YOU _WANT_ YOU STUPID HUNK OF METAL?"

It wheels towards you quickly, like a stupid deliriously happy dog towards it's reluctant owner, and picks you up. Though you scream and protest it touching you, it moves too quickly for you to do anything about it. It places you in bed and pulls the blanket over you.

"You wanted to _tuck me in? Seriously?"_

Mindless beeping.

You sigh.

"Stupid damn robot. I knew you didn't have a brain. You don't have a heart either. I almost envy you."

You close your eyes, hands behind your head. You hear the robot roll around but don't bother watching to see where it goes. It settles somewhere near you.

"I thought for sure Alejandro would be here… And that I could see him and know he's okay and that I didn't hurt him too bad." You feel stupid and like you should be embarrassed of your own voice cracking, but remind yourself it's a robot you're talking to. It doesn't understand what you're saying. "I don't want to care. I don't want to be worried all the time anymore. I feel so guilty, and I miss him, but I don't even really know if he's _alive_ or ever wants to see me again… Know what I mean?"

You blink a few times, watery eyes. The robot stands still and you laugh a little. "Of course you don't. You're a tin can."

You lie back with an arm across your face, blocking the light from your eyes. For a few moments, you're just silent, listening to the robot make its quiet little beeping sounds, like it's trying to say something. The beeping becomes almost relaxing to listen to. Saying your thoughts out loud feels weirdly therapeutic.

Your usually sealed off emotions are seeping in from the gap in a cracked door. You know that if you wanted to, you could slam that door shut right now, or… You could let them roll out for now, while you're in privacy, and the cameras are off.

"... I'm so scared." You say, and it's weird to admit it out loud. You think back to the night terrors you've had since the end of World Tour. It was embarrassing enough waking your _dad_ up in the middle of the night screaming bloody murder-It'd be a lot _more_ embarrassing in front of the entire villains team, or even the entire viewing audience.

You take a deep breath and tell yourself to keep talking, even if it feels too heavy. Maybe if you let all of your emotions out right now, there won't be an explosion of them later in the night.

"I can't shake the feeling that he was _supposed_ to be here... Especially with our team being down one player and all…" Your voice grows more determined and insisting. "I _know_ he was initially supposed to be here and it's making me so scared because why _wouldn't he be_ unless something was seriously wrong? What if he's still hospitalized and immobile a _year_ later? …. Or _DEAD?_ "

That possibility really hits you then.

You turn to your side and sob pathetically.

"I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't. I meant to hurt a lot of people, but I never meant to hurt him."

When you start crying, the robot is back up on it's wheels and beeping fervently again. "Will you shut up already…" you sniffle. Then you hear something.

The noise makes you pause. You sit up again and stare at it. Yeah, this robot can be pretty noisy but.. That was a different kind of noise. It was a bang against the metal, like something hit against it from the inside. You watch it closely for a moment.

… You're just hearing things. You've spent too much time with this dumb thing. You lie back down and close your eyes.

But then you hear it again. Louder this time. Then again.

You sit up, eyes wide.

"Is… Is something in there…?" You ask quietly.


	2. Robot Charades

[HEATHER'S POV]

Silence rings throughout the room, sliced in half by the echoing _THUD_ that comes from inside the robot's flimsy metal walls. The front 'chest' of the contraption pushes forward a bit now, like a dented tin can, confirming your suspicions. _Wow,_ you think silently in your bewilderment, _to be making a mark like that, either the material this was constructed out of is really thin, or whatever is in there is punching HARD._

You stare in silence at first, not sure what your next move should be. Should you tell the others? No, that's a wimp move. Maybe you could use this love-struck sentient robot thing to your advantage!

 _THUD._

Okay, no, whatever's in there, it wants out. You're not sure you _want_ it out though. For whatever reason, when you imagine the possibilities what Chris may have shoved into a robot and thrown on the villains team, your mind goes straight to Ezekiel-and if _that's_ what's in there, there's no chance of you letting it out.

 _THUD._

"I hear you!" You squawk at it. "I get it. Somebody's in there. You want out."

Silence.

You take a deep breath and try to think clearly. Shove all prior thoughts of Alejandro out of your mind. After all, this development will probably make the episode cut.

"Listen, you can control your little drama meter thingy, right?" You ask timidly, though it comes out more annoyed than anything. In response, the robot slams it's meter from side to side frantically, like a windshield wiper in a heavy storm. _Tsk! tsk! tsk! tsk! tsk!_

Whatever's in there, it's frantic. You dangle your legs over the edge of the bed and sit to face it, more or less level with it. "I'm going to ask you some questions, okay? And move your little meter to the happy side for yes, and the sad side for no. Okay?"

 _Yes._

You laugh out loud suddenly. Here you are. Robot charades! How ridiculous. It sits there, idly buzzing. You realize then that it's waiting for you to keep talking. Shit, you're not even sure what you should ask…

"Have you been in there for a long time?" _Yes._

"Was it Chris?" _Yes._

 __"Are you hurt?" It slides to the middle, then.

"Is that a… Kind of?" You ask with a raised eyebrow. _Yes._

Your stomach actually starts to turn a bit. You want to ask how long they've been stuck in there, but that's not a yes or no question.

"Is.. Is it Ezekiel, in there?" Even if it is, you're starting to take enough pity on him to let him out and just tell the others he escaped.

 _No._

You reach out and touch the front of the machine, if only to get a better feel of what it's made of. You find that the material is not nearly as flimsy and breakable as you assumed-Which means whoever's in there had to have been bloodying themselves trying to pound hard enough to get your attention.

"I don't understand why you've been following _me_ of all people... You had to have known I wasn't your best bet for sympathy. You must not know me. Probably following me around because I'm hot." It beeps in response. Yes or no questions, Heather.

You run your hands up the sides of it and touch the head, tug on it a bit. It's a little loose.

"I think if I get something heavy, I can knock the head off of this thing," you think out loud. "Is that safe to do?"

For a few moments, the robot teeters back and forth on it's wheels, shifts a bit as whoever (or whatever) is inside of it moves. Then eventually, with a tiny _tsk,_ the meter clicks over to _Yes._

"Okay." You take a deep breath. Then you repeat it to yourself. "Okay." You hop up from the bed and pace around the nearly empty room. "Something heavy… Something heavy…"

What are you going to use? Go outside and find a big stick or something? The other's would want to know what you're doing. And whoever's in there, they're _your_ ally. You'll be able to use the fact that _you're_ the one that freed them all season!

Then the idea strikes you that Duncan has a bat lying with the rest of his things. "Hang on a sec, robocop…" you mutter as you quickly usher out of the room and back to the other contestants. Without giving any of them a passing glance, you take the baseball bat directly out of Duncan's stuff and walk away with it.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going with my bat?"

You cross your arms, not even turning to face him. "It's for the robot. Chill."

A moment of internal debate, then: "... Okay. Just… bring it back."

You snicker and disappear back into the bedroom, where the robot remains in the same position you left it. It starts beeping happily when you return. It's almost cute. "Alright. This might hurt. Are you ready?"

It wheels towards you, pausing just in front of you in the middle of the room. _tsk, Yes._

You grip the bat in your hands, and in the moment, you can't help the huge grin spreading across your face. You have _always_ wanted to do this. You get into softball stance, knees bent, bat over your shoulder, a malevolent flicker in your eyes. You look far too happy to be decapitating something with a baseball bat.

" _STUPID!"_

" _FUCKING!"_

" _ROBOT!"_

After a few practice swings, you give it your best shot and swing hard at the head of the robot. It not only shoots off straight away, but crashes hard enough against the wall to break into pieces. Sidetracked and overjoyed, you run to the debris and laugh at how totaled it is.

That was literally one of the funnest things you have ever done.. Ever.

A croaky voice from behind you, bouncing off of metal plates- _"D-Dios mio…"_

Ice shoots through your veins.

Alejandro.

 _Alejandro was in the robot._

You don't know what you expected. But it definitely, definitely was not _him._

You are completely frozen where you stand, back still to him, half bent over the remains of the head. You're still shaking with the adrenaline that came with that awesome bat stunt, but now you're also shaking with…. with… something else, something you can't put a name to right now because you feel like your entire mind has slammed hard into a brick wall.

You hear him moving and struggling behind you, trying to shove his head back through the opening that the missing head has left him, desperate for fresh air.

Ever so slowly and cautiously, you turn around to face him. Yes, yes, it's really, actually him. You have no idea where to begin. You stare at him, taking in every detail of his face, and he seems to be doing the same to you, glassy green eyes wide and pained.

You have so many questions you don't even know where to start. What on earth was he doing in that robot to begin with? How long has Chris had him stuck in there? Since _season three?!_ And his skin…

His skin is so dark, why is he so dark if he saw no sun?

As the realization dawns on you that his skin is _charred,_ burnt still from the lava you subjected him to, you double over.

" _Heather…"_

His voice is soft and gentle and light as a feather.

It contrasts highly with your own.

" _I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, ALEJANDRO!"_

" _Ai!_ Heather, put the _bat_ down, would you?!"

 **{ And so ends Chapter 2! I hope you enjoyed and thank you all so much for the reviews, they make my night every time :) More to come soon, so hit follow if you liked it!** **-ℋ }**


	3. roses are FF0000 violets are 0000FF

[HEATHER'S POV]

The bat clatters to the ground. You throw your arms around him and hug him - as well as you can manage to while he's still in the robot. He makes a startled noise, but slowly lifts his arms from confinement and puts them around you. You stay that way for a few moments of silence. Your eyes aren't stinging or hot, but they're overflowing. For once your tears feel less like a thunderstorm with striking lightning and more like a gushing geyser, soft and natural.

After a few moments he works up enough courage to speak. "You're… not angry at me?" he asks slowly.

You tighten your hug, voice distorted by tears. "I'm furious."

He softens, and you feel him smile a little against your cheek. You spend another few moments in silence as he coos at you quietly.

"Es tan bueno verte, mi dulce…"

His tears, which strike suddenly and without warning, are less elegant than yours. The fact that he is capable of lacking such elegance is jarring in and of itself. Alejandro has always been, at least to your memory, far more dignified than yourself. Then again, who are you to judge the emotional composure of someone who's spent the past… undetermined amount of time trapped inside a box?

If a thundering, striking storm is what Alejandro needs to be, you'll allow it.

You pull from him and look into his eyes, just to confirm one more time that it's really him. You pout stubbornly, the sight of his tears making yours come down faster. "I hate you. Don't ever leave me again."

He snickers a bit despite himself, stretching his arms outwardly and moving them a bit. His expression is pained - _Oh god, he's hurt, isn't he?_ You'd managed to forget in the past few moments of happiness that he's injured.

You begin to pry one of the side panels off of the machine, to give him an opening to step out of. "Gracias, Heather, thank you…" he breathes softly, his voice hardly above a whisper. You break the panel off and it clatters noisily to the ground.

"There, can you get out okay?" you ask. He nods ecstatically, but.. doesn't budge. After a moment, the emotion of his stature shifts from relief to panic. Your hand flies to cup his face, like maybe you can coax the pain from his expression. "What? What's wrong?"

He stares wide eyed towards his feet, a bit of desperation flashing in his eyes. "Heather... I... cannot move my legs."

Your mind was rushing and swirling, but that sentence brings your thoughts to a full halt. A look of horror on your face, you push what's left of the robot towards the bed so you can help him out onto it. Your mouth is running - you're speaking - but you don't even realize it at the moment, because your thoughts have become a scratched record. _He's hurt, Alejandro's very very hurt, he needs help._

It turns out he's in less pain than your anxious mind immediately assumed. Evidence of the burns still exist on his body, but they don't hurt anymore - _of course they don't._ It wouldn't have made sense for season three's injuries to still hurt a year later, unmedicated or not. You feel a bit stupid for thinking he'd still be in pain.

His legs, however, are still an issue, though thankfully not an aching one. They're numb; Asleep. Not so much as pins and needles prickling at the surface; just dead weight beneath his hips.

You think of the way he was contorted in that box and cringe. It wasn't a flattering position like you would've assumed; he wasn't crouched in there normally with his knees to his chest.

Instead his legs were being forced into a contorted, unnatural angle by the metal confines. There is a deep imprint in his thigh where the heel of his boot was being pressed for a year straight. His leg should not have ever been bent in an angle that would make that imprint possible.

It looks very painful, but he swears he can't feel it... Even though he does yelp in pain when you try to straighten his legs into a more natural bend.

"Heather, you are shaking. Stop worrying - lie down and take a breath."

Oh. Are you shaking? You hold your hand in front of your face as it trembles out of your control for confirmation. Yikes - You hadn't even realized. You lean forward onto the bed, balling the comforter in your fists and trying to steady yourself. He looks at you solemnly, not well able to move from his position.

"Please keep breathing steadily. I do not want you to have a panic attack."

That sentence reminds you of something that's got your face completely paling... and then shooting red. Alejandro being in that robot the entire time means he heard all of the blubbering and confessing you did. He heard _all of that._

You grow hot with anger, eyes narrowing, but before you can sling sharp-edged words out, the anger melts into horrid, thickly shaded embarrassment.

"You... fucking... asshole," you grit through clenched teeth.

 _"Que?!"_

"Go ahead then! Let me have it! Rub it in my face. You saw me break down and cry over you." You seem to forget that you're still crying at the moment.

Alejandro takes a few moments to process your words, his brows raising in astonishment at first before lowering in disappointment. "... You think so lowly of me... You think I want to make fun of you? Heather, the cameras are off. Can we be real here?!"

He's right.

You hate it, but he's right. The cameras _are_ off, and you _should_ be more real. You silence.

"I missed you too," he says, and your face grows red for different reasons. "You do not have to react to those feelings with fury."

Look at him, so worried about you when he's the one half incapacitated. You let the last bit of show-reserved anger roll off your back like water off a duck, leaving you cold and embarrassed and tearful.

"A year?" You ask with a stammering, wavering tone. "A _year_ in that robot suit?"

His voice is as pained as his face. "... Si..."

Your throat feels dry. You try to swallow but you can't quite, still staring down at the pattern on the comforter. You grip it a bit tighter, to keep yourself tied to reality somehow. "Why...?"

He's hesitant to speak, and you wonder if it's because he doesn't want to make you sad.

"Chris did not want me to be capable of suing him or the show for what happened."

"So you..." You trail off in thought.

A realization wafts over you that has you nearly puking again. You release the blanket and hold your stomach.

"You never went home. You haven't seen your family; your mom... You _never got to go home after Season three."_ Your stomach churns painfully.

He tries to sit up to reach you, but finds his legs to be just as unresponsive as they were five minutes ago. He grunts in frustration before softening his voice to a quiet, pleading tone.

"Come here, mi amor, please..."

You can't accept the cruel reality of this situation. Alejandro did _not_ deserve that. He didn't deserve to be heartbroken and humiliated on live TV - that was unfair enough - but now you come to find that you've robbed him of an entire year of his life?

That his parents and brothers are still in Spain, no idea where Alejandro is, surely presuming him dead? Or, almost worse, maybe they _knew_ he was forced into this fate and couldn't legally do anything about it!

It takes you a few moments to force yourself to do it, but you climb shakily onto the bed and crawl towards his beckoning call. When you're close enough, he pulls you into his arms and holds you against his chest. You let yourself lie there, coiling against him like a child who's just had a nightmare.

But this is the kind of dream you won't wake up from.

Guilt is thrust through your chest like an icy stake, pulled out and stabbed through again as every moment brings another awful realization.

 _You've done terrible things to Alejandro Burromuerto_ \- _so_ much worse than you initially thought.

"You didn't deserve that..." you whimper. "You didn't do _anything_ to deserve that."

He _laughs,_ and it throws you off completely. You look up to meet his gaze, flabbergasted.

"Are you _sure_ about that, Heather? I think I did plenty to deserve my fate."

"Y-You didn't!" you sputter. "You never even really... Did anything wrong!"

He laughs again, and it makes you angry, because you're being serious, and you're not serious for just anybody. _"What_ is so _funny?_ I'm right! What did you ever do that was so bad?! _"_

That's when he does something horrible:

He starts singing.

 _"I left Bridgette stuck to a pole, robbed LaShawna of a fabul-"_

 _"Are you seriously singing at me right now!?"_

He shooshes you and pulls you to his chest, continuing his song in dorky off-key. He never was the greatest singer in the world - they auto tuned him to hell in the final cuts - and while you feel the urge to continue giving him a hard time or poke fun at his voice, you don't.

Something about his hand against the square of your back and his heart thumping against your ear relaxes you enough to want to just listen… even if he _is_ dorkishly off-key.

You sing your own parts of the duet when he urges you to, though your voice spends a few moments caught in your throat. You laugh together over the _combat_ line, and things feel charmingly domestic in the moment. Your hands trace delicately over his chest as you settle onto your left side beside him, and he smiles softly up at you with emeralds glistening in his eyes.

You even chime in in place of the puppet's parts, which makes him laugh and in turn makes your heart flutter a bit inside your rib cage. He runs one hand delicately through your hair, ending his impromptu performance with a kiss against your forehead.

For a few moments, his lips lingering against you, there's just silence.

Then:

"So... My slate isn't completely clean."

Right; that's what he was trying to demonstrate with that song. Why he deserved a year of what can unexaggeratedly be called _robot hell._

"... Neither is mine..." you say softly, remembering the alliance formed by that song and how hurt he was when you broke it. "But _I_ wasn't punished with... Rejection and third degree burns and being ripped away from my family and a year in confinement with Chris."

He smirks his overconfident smirk at you, and you wonder how on Earth he's so collected after an experience like that. Five minutes of tears and done? Just like that?

"Perhaps not... But you _did_ have to experience the love of your life going through all of those things, which I am sure was equally excruciating. Maybe more so!"

Your expression coils in disgust. "You are _so arrogant!"_

"But it's true, no?"

He puts on his sparkly camera grin, and torn between an urge to punch him and an urge to kiss him, you follow through with the latter.

You peck him on the chin, just hardly beneath his lips. You remain close, and start to whisper a response to his question. He must not of needed it, though, because he steals your words from you with a kiss.

Returning the kiss was an automatic reaction; by the time you had decided to do it, you already had been for a few seconds.

"Mi Amor...?" he whispers against you, and you shiver.

"Yes..." you breathe shakily.

"Let's not end it like this."

You look him in the eyes for a beat and see nothing but love in his eyes. No regret, no sorrow, no pain - just eyes that are only for you.

And that's when you decide with certainty in your heart,

That this is not how you'll end it.


End file.
